


The Things Inside

by Aevintyr



Series: Invincible [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canon Divergence - Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, M/M, Mentions of Homophobia and Misogyny, Mildly Dubious Consent, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:01:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24006283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aevintyr/pseuds/Aevintyr
Summary: Thor’s impending coronation leads Tony and Loki to the one place they have avoided on their travels so far: Asgard. In the Realm Eternal, Tony has to reconsider everything he’s taking for granted now, not least of all his relationship with Loki.
Relationships: Loki/Tony Stark
Series: Invincible [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/364106
Comments: 8
Kudos: 62





	The Things Inside

**Author's Note:**

> I went through my virtual fic drawer and realized that the longer sequel I had in mind was never going to happen, so I figured a short(ened) conclusion to this series would be preferable to no conclusion at all. 
> 
> The Invincible ’verse started after Age of Ultron and that’s what I stuck to, so subsequent movies did not happen here. I don’t own Marvel, I’m not American, you know the drill. Mind the tags.

_So tear me open, but beware_  
_The things inside without a care_  
_And the dirt still stains me_  
_So wash me, ’till I’m clean_  
Metallica

Tony spat out blood. He would have wiped his mouth, but his hands were cuffed to the chair. 

“What are you doing here?” the dwarf in front of him said.

“You know who I am.” Tony’s grin had to make quite the sight, all bloodied. The dwarves kept staring at him. “Wait, you don’t? What kind of security are you? What’s your boss paying you to know nothing? Awesome business model you got going there, keep up the good work! I’d take some notes, but …”

That earned him another fist, against his side. Those broken ribs were starting to make their presence known.

“Look,” Tony said. “I’m going to be brutally honest with you, this isn’t my first rodeo. So let me run you through how this is going to play out. At some point, soon, you’ll get tired of breaking my ribs, and maybe you’ll try a leg next, but that also won’t produce the desired effect, so then you’ll start asking after people I care about so you can threaten them. And hey, let me tell you something, I think that’s …” The first dwarf collapsed in a heap, clutching at his throat. “… not a great plan.”

Seconds later, all of the dwarves were on the floor.

“Aw,” Tony said. “I had this completely under control, you know.”

“Undoubtedly.” Loki ran a cold hand down his left side. “That’s three, no, four broken ribs. Puncturing your lung, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Yeah.” Tony grinned up. His lips still had to be full of blood.

For once, a hint of worry in Loki’s eyes. “Are you certain you don’t feel it?”

“Well, if you really want to stretch it …” Tony pushed his side against the cold fingers. 

“Just because you can take the pain does not mean I should cause more of it.”

Right. As they were speaking, the ribs had started to mend. It _had_ hurt, a little, but it was easing up now. Tony knew that Loki could feel it, ragged edges smoothing out beneath his skin, without his magic to help it along.

“So …” Tony grinned. “I win.”

From the depth of his magic, Loki produced a fire-sooty cauldron. “Andhrímnir will be delirious, don’t you think?”

“You mean his upper lip will twitch in something that could approximate a smile?” Tony summoned Extremis to his wrists, channelling its heat. The handcuffs clattered to the floor. “Let’s go.”

#

“Huh.” Andhrímnir’s lip did twitch. Tony could see it even in the sparse lights. “What you requested. It’s back there.”

Andhrímnir pointed towards the back of the shop, and shuffled off with the cauldron.

Tony walked down slowly, until he stood in front of what looked like an Iron Man suit, and yet … not. Golden vambraces, golden shin guards, red leather-like fabric and a red breastpiece with golden details centred around a shimmering blue plate. 

“Uh …” He turned to Loki. “What do you think?”

There was … something in Loki’s eyes, but Tony couldn’t be quite sure in the low lights. Loki’s voice, at any rate, was hoarse when he said, “You will look like you belong with the kings and the gods.”

Right. “But I don’t belong there.”

“I know.” The smile that came onto Loki’s lips was sad. “Neither do I.” 

Ouch. How long had that realization been in the making? 

“You know …” Tony cleared his throat. “I don’t recall discussing why we are going to this coronation. Or even _whether_ we’re going. I mean … _why_ are we going, exactly? You don’t owe Asgard shit.” 

Loki heaved a sigh. For once, he looked like the thousand years’ worth of bad history he had on his back. “I will regret going. But I think I will regret not going more.”

“Okay.” Regret, Tony could work with.

#

They traveled via Bifröst, since Loki had deemed it appropriate to “use proper channels for once.” Tony didn’t protest, if only because he was curious. He knew the lurching, exhilarating feeling of Loki’s teleportation. In comparison, the Bifröst was more colorful, yes, but a bit of a let-down. Maybe it lacked the thrill of the covert. 

They arrived in a golden dome with elaborate ornamentation woven in a complicated pattern. Behind a golden dais, Tony could make out the citadel of Asgard, also in gold. So this was the Realm Eternal. The Realm of the Gods. 

The sound of a sword being sheathed returned him to reality. From the dais, a gold-clad Asgardian descended. Heimdall, Tony supposed, Gatekeeper of the Gods. He didn’t look too happy. Alongside him appeared Thor, with a huge smile on his face. Better. 

There was another tall Asgardian in simple, blue robes, who struck a chord on his lute and proclaimed, “I welcome Loki Laufeyson of Jötunheim, son of Laufey and Farbauti, brother of Byleist, adopted son of Odin and Frigga, brother of Thor, Liesmith, Silvertongue, Master of Magic, Destroyer of the Bifröst, Wielder of the Scepter, Trickster of the Gods.”

Right. Loki regarded the Asgardian with a thin smile. “Bragi. How nice to see you haven’t lost your … touch.”

Bragi beamed, struck the chord again and continued, “I welcome Tony Stark of Midgard, son of Howard and Maria, father of Ultron, battle companion of Thor, Iron Man, Avenger of Midgard, Bane of the Chitauri, Resister of the Scepter, Merchant of Death.”

That could have been worse. Tony supposed. He wondered where Bragi was getting his information. Father of Ultron? Seriously?

“Hi,” he said. 

Heimdall’s booming voice rang out, “Behold the Crown Prince of Asgard, Thor Odinson.”

Both Bragi and Heimdall bowed to Thor. Monarchy. _Right_. Heimdall glared at Loki, who gave no indication whatsoever to bow himself. Tony stood by his side, keeping himself perfectly still for once.

“Brother!” Thor pulled Loki into a crushing hug. 

So that took care of the bowing bit. For Loki anyway. Heimdall was now glaring at Tony. But this was not his King. Instead, this was Thor, this was his _friend_ , for fuck’s sake, with whom he’d battled Chitauri, insane robots, malfunctioning elevators and popularity contests. They hadn’t spoken since Thor had left Earth shortly after the Ultron disaster. Over three years ago, now.

Loki stepped back. “Thor,” he acknowledged. 

Before Tony could contemplate whether he’d be expected to bow or worse, kneel, Thor hugged him, too. “It is so good to see you, Stark.”

“You too, big guy.” Tony patted Thor’s broad shoulders awkwardly. No further words about Ultron? Fine by him. 

Still, the smile between the three of them was not as easy as it could have been.

Before Tony could contemplate intervening with what would probably have amounted to a tasteless joke, Thor cleared his throat. “Forgive me, my friends, but I must welcome the next guests.” 

“Of course,” Loki said, his voice smooth. “There will be plenty of time to catch up.”

“A shuttle will bring you to the palace. Enjoy the reception.” Thor turned back to Bragi, who was announcing the imminent arrival of someone with a long Elvish name.

That left them faced with Heimdall, who still didn’t look pleased about the Jötun and the mortal being treated with respect. “Not everyone has forgotten what you did,” he spat at Loki. “Traitor.”

“I do not think you fully grasp the meaning of that word.” Loki shrugged. “It is, however, far too early in the evening to debate moral dilemmas.”

“And _you_ ,” Heimdall said to Tony, “who do you think you are, mortal, that you do not kneel to the gods?”

Before Tony could reply, Loki raised his left hand, just a little, in the space between the three of them. “Tony Stark,” he said, in a possessive tone that went straight to Tony’s groin, “kneels to no one.”

“Except you,” Heimdall spat.

Loki didn’t answer. Instead, he placed his hand on Tony’s upper arm and led him away, out of the dome and onto the rainbow bridge. It glowed in the places where Tony put his feet, he noted with more fascination than such a silly trick should evoke. 

“That could have been worse,” Loki said. He sounded lost in thought, as if he was still evaluating.

“Sure,” Tony managed. 

They arrived at some sort of boat with tiny wings hovering in mid-air. Their shuttle, presumably. The Asgardian waiting for them wore a gold-and-white uniform that Loki had mentioned marked him as palace guard. When he spotted them, his right hand went to his sword, but he did let them on board. Loki ignored him entirely, which left him with no choice but start the shuttle.

#

The reception struck Freyja as excessive. The towering hall, open to three sides, was teeming with guests from across the realms, clustered along the massive golden tables which housed the buffet. And to think this was the first of nine days of revels … She could understand why Njörd and Skadi had elected to only attend the coronation proper and had sent the Crown Prince and Princess ahead to make nice. 

“Mead, sister dearest?”

She turned to Freyr and took the chalice he offered her. “I suppose we shall have to drink to Asgard?”

He grinned. “Why not? There are good beverages aplenty in this realm.” 

They toasted each other. Freyja sipped the mead which she’d half expected to be dry as bone, but it appeared to be a silky one. How considerate of Thor. Or maybe she’d have Hogun to thank for that.

Freyr, meanwhile, was scanning the crowd. “And attractive people.”

With a sigh, Freyja followed his gaze. “Jötun sorceress.” 

He frowned. “You’re sure?”

“Never stopped you before.”

He laughed so loudly she had to elbow him. The Asgardians nearby were frowning. Old rumors died hard. 

Towards the far end of the hall, a group of musicians were setting up. There’d be displays and dancing soon. Judging from the amount of people present already, the future king couldn’t be too far off.

“Think Bragi will unveil another of his masterpieces?” Freyr asked. “The Mighty Thor and the Pesky Waiting Game?”

Freyja chuckled. “Don’t give him any ideas, I’m sure that’d be treason.” Bragi had greeted her as Goddess of Desire, so maybe that wouldn’t be such a misfortune.

“Asgardians, eh? Always so dramatic.”

“A vice the Vanir lack entirely, of course.”

From behind them, a noticeable hush fell upon the crowd around the entrance. Freyja turned around to see who’d caused that kind of reaction. Oh. “He’s here.”

“Who’s here?” Freyr was still focused on the sorceress.

Freyja swallowed. “Loki.”

“ _What_?” Freyr whirled around and stared at the entrance.

There, indeed, stood the wayward prince, surveying the scene with disdain. At least, he had Stark by his side, who looked bemused, but calm. Hogun had mentioned the debates about whether they should invite Loki. In the end, they’d settled on trying. Loki and Stark hadn’t stopped by Vanaheim since then, not for a couple of months, or Freyja would have sounded them out herself. She hadn’t known whether any message had even reached them.

“I’ll go and diffuse this,” Freyja said. “Stay here.”

But Freyr, of course, would not be deterred. Resigned, Freyja made her way through the crowd. 

“Loki!” she called out, and hugged him before he could sidestep her. “It is so good to see you! How have you been?”

“Very well, thank you, Freyja.” He disentangled himself, but ignored Freyr completely. 

“And you, Stark.” On impulse, she hugged him, too. 

“Hey, how fares my favorite goddess?” He hugged her back with a grin.

Around them, people were starting to mumble. 

“Don’t you have a buffet to conquer?” Freyr said, hand on the handle of his sword.

Finally, the crowd dispersed. On Asgard, food always won.

“I have no need of your assistance,” Loki snapped at Freyr.

“Truly, now.” They glared at each other. 

“Don’t,” Freyja said. “If you two _have_ to do this all over again, by the Norns don’t do it _here_.” 

“See if I care.” With a flourish of white robes, Freyr stalked off in the general direction of the sorceress.

“This is going to be such a fun vacation,” Stark observed. 

Freyja could only sigh in agreement.

#

With Freyja acting as a kind of buffer, none of the Asgardians dared approach them. That, and Loki glaring daggers at everyone and no one. 

“Do you think you could ferry us to the food, maybe?” Tony said. “I’m starving.”

Freyja laughed. “Good to see your welcome hasn’t ruined your appetite.”

She strode away, all regal and gorgeous with her red robe, silky dark hair and golden skin. Tony had many fond memories of time spent at the Vanir palace, sitting in the autumnal gardens with Loki and Freyja, talking Extremis, magic, science, and everything in between. 

Thankfully, Freyr had taken off in a huff and it would be some time before he came back. So far, so good. Freyr, Tony could handle. The Asgardians were the unknown element. He’d had dealings with them before, of course, but Loki had handled most of these contacts. Tony had never been to Asgard, and he was reasonably sure Loki had not set foot here since Odin had deposited him on Earth in the care of Norman Osborn. A lot of things had happened in those three years since, to Loki and to Tony, yes, but also to Odin, who’d apparently fallen into the Odinsleep again. Hence, the coronation. 

Freyja started chatting about the food, put a plate into Tony’s hands and proceeded to fill it, with pasties, some meat he couldn’t identify, something that looked almost, but not quite, like potatoes. Loki trailed behind them, but refused to touch any food. 

“Hey,” Tony said. “Can I do anything?”

Loki looked away. “Make sure to try the honey-roasted apples. You’ll enjoy them.”

“Golden apples, by any chance?” 

“If Asgard possessed apples that granted immortality, do you believe they would be handed out at a reception?” 

But Loki was smiling again. That counted. Tony smiled back, before returning his attention to Freyja, and his food. It was pretty good, he had to admit. 

“Careful there, little man,” Freyja said as a child darted past and almost tripped over her robe.

The boy froze, turned and scurried behind a tall, blonde Asgardian in a stunning blue robe. 

“Hello, Gunnhild,” Loki said.

“My apologies,” she replied, and put her hand on top of the boy’s head. “Freyja. Loki. And …” She frowned.

“Tony Stark of Midgard.” He smiled.

“You don’t say. Midgard? You’re a long way from home.”

“No,” Tony said, with a sidewards glance at Loki. “No, actually, I’m not.”

The boy poked his head around Gunnhild’s skirts again, his eyes wide. “Midgard? Are you _mortal_?”

Tony shrugged. “More or less.”

“Eivindr,” Gunnhild hissed. “That is a very impolite question.” To Tony, she said, “My apologies. Again. He can be a little … wild.”

“Is that so.” Loki hunkered down and extended his right hand to Eivindr. The boy shrank back, but when golden magic swirled on Loki’s palm, he edged closer despite himself. The swirls coalesced into a tiny horse that started to gallop and jump through the air. Eivindr squealed in delight.

Tony watched in stunned silence as Loki conjured more animals, an Alf fox, a Midgardian cat. Something locked deep in his throat as an achingly vivid picture of what might have been unfolded in his mind.

Then, the unmistakable sound of a weapon swinging through the air. Tony flinched, but before he could move, the blade of a large golden axe was already resting against Loki’s throat. Eivindr screamed and ran away. The magic animals dissolved. Loki lowered his hand.

“Eirik,” Gunnhild said, annoyed. “What do you think you’re accomplishing here? You’ve scared Eivindr half to death.”

And me, Tony thought. His heart was hammering in his throat. Another palace guard, and in the foulest mood they’d encountered yet. Shit. There was no telling what these Asgardians with a grudge would do. Eirik had more badges on his armor, too, so he was probably important.

Loki cleared his throat. “I suggest you lower your axe, unless you wish for death.”

Eirik glared. “We used to put _your lot_ to death, you know.”

The kneeling Loki dissolved and another pressed a dagger against Eirik’s throat from behind. “I didn’t quite catch that. Who were you going to kill?”

“Sorcery!” Eirik spat. “That’s all you can do, isn’t it. You’re not worthy to tread on Asgardian grounds!”

“Oh, never fear, this blade is Jötun. It will be all the more painful.” Loki pressed the dagger closer, enough to draw blood.

Fuck. Something had to be done, before it ended with dead Asgardians.

So Tony ventured, “Loki. Don’t.”

It took agonizing seconds, but Loki released Eirik, who took a few steps, then looked between Loki and Tony. “Huh,” he concluded. “I thought you bending over for the Vanir princeling was bad enough, but a mortal? You truly know no shame, do you?”

Okay, that guy _did_ have a death wish. 

“Have care how you speak of my brother,” Freyja said, her tone enough to make Gunnhild flinch. Unfortunately, it didn’t impress Eirik. 

Tony could see Loki twitch again, so he intervened, “How would you know about shame, anyway? Trying to compensate for something, are you?”

“Shut your mouth, mortal,” Eirik snarled.

“Or else what? You’re going to kill mortal old me? Think that’s going to be a great deed worthy of heroic songs? Compensating, I’m telling you.”

“My friends!” another booming voice rang out. A group of Asgardians inserted themselves between them. Tony wanted to feel relieved, but then, he didn’t know whether this constituted an improvement. Judging by the tales Loki had told him, those were the Warriors Three, and the one who had spoken was Volstagg. “No bad blood on such a joyous occasion!”

Eirik huffed and stalked away. Exasperated, Gunnhild took off after him. Loki glared, but returned to Tony’s side. 

“I did not require your assistance,” he hissed. “You were proving his point.”

“Do you really want to fight with me, too? Whose point are _you_ trying to prove?”

Facing away from the Asgardians, Loki looked like all he wanted to do was lean against Tony and breathe. The quiet desolation in his eyes made Tony’s throat constrict. But he knew any touch would be out of the question here. 

It lasted only a second, before Loki straightened up and turned to the new arrivals with an almost-real smirk on his lips.

“Why, it’s the Warriors Three. Have you missed me?”

“Tremendously,” the blond one said, Fandral or something. But he was grinning. It diffused the lingering tension. Tony decided he liked that guy.

“This calls for a toast, to reunions!” Volstagg shouted.

Someone pressed a golden chalice into Tony’s hands. Right. Mead. He could smell the alcohol in it. Higher percentage than the Midgardian version, that was for sure. Tony swallowed.

Next to him, Loki dusted something off his shoulder. When he lowered his hand again, it passed over Tony’s chalice and made the mead glow for a second. Around them, everyone raised their chalices. Tony looked into his again. Water.

Smiling, he lifted it.

Maybe, just maybe, this would be alright.

#

“I spot imminent self-righteous acts in the name of freedom at ten o’clock,” Loki whispered into his ear.

Frowning, Tony turned and found … “Steve? Hang on, they invited the Avengers?” Well, it made sense. Thor had been or still was one of them, so, yeah. Tony should have anticipated this. But he hadn’t seen any of them for three years, either. 

“Well?” Loki nodded in Steve’s general direction. “Go talk to Captain Rogers.”

“Uh …”

“I’m here too, am I not?”

“How’s that related?”

“Growing up in the shade of someone else’s golden greatness, always second-best … I know a little about what that feels like.”

Tony swallowed hard, but Loki grinned at him and continued, “I trust you will not start a war between Asgard and Midgard within the hour.”

Okay. Tony did laugh. “Aw, thanks for the vote of confidence. Try not to start a war or two of your own.”

“I shall, as ever, endeavor to do my … _worst_.” With that, Loki stalked off towards the buffet and the delegation from Nidavellir.

Alright then. Steve. Tony started to pick his way across the hall, to where Steve was standing, looking dashing and uncomfortable at the same time in his dress uniform. 

“Why, if it isn’t Captain America himself! Fancy meeting you here.” 

Steve, who’d been looking the other way, jumped in surprise. “Tony!”

“The one and only. Where’d you leave the rest?”

“They’re coming, probably tomorrow. Too much to do on Earth, as I’m sure you know.”

But Tony didn’t know. He’d kept tabs on the Avengers in the beginning, and his inter-realm monitoring system still compiled all the data, but in the past year or so, he hadn’t checked up on that particular file as often as he could have. Come to think of it, why hadn’t he?

“So,” he asked, “still out there saving the worlds?”

“Yeah.” Steve accepted some mead from a waiter passing by. Tony waved away a similar offer with a queasy feeling in his stomach. There was an awful lot of that mead around. “What have you been up to? You didn’t exactly keep in touch, Tony. We didn’t even know whether you were still alive.”

Ouch. That stung more than it should have. “Yeah, about that. Listen, I just … I kind of needed a break. A clean break. From … well, from just about everything, I suppose. So I went hitchhiking around the galaxy.”

“Uh-huh.” Steve looked like he was trying, very hard, not to ask a particular question.

Tony sighed. “He’s by the buffet, talking to Ygnvi of Nidavellir.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Loki gesturing at some food. Ygnvi was laughing.

“It’s been, what, three years?” The horror in Steve’s voice was evident. “ _Why_ are you with him? Still?”

Okay. “You got to admit, he does look awfully hot in leather.”

“But … but … He destroyed New York! He tried to kill you! He threw you out a window!”

“Yeah, well.” Tony shrugged. “That was before he knew I’m the best fuck in the Nine Realms.”

Steve went beet-red, bless his heart. “So …” He cleared his throat frantically. “How come you know this … Ygnvi?” 

“His is the only forge on Nidavellir that will make weapons out of Jötun steel. If you ask nicely. Or if he owes you a favor.” 

Steve took a deep swallow of his mead. “You know, after everything that has happened to me in the 21st century, I genuinely thought I couldn’t be surprised anymore. And here I am, on an alien world, talking to my friend, who’s suddenly on intimate terms with one of our worst enemies.”

Conflicting replies stumbled through Tony’s mind. “Loki is not my enemy,” won out. “If we are still friends, you will have to respect that.”

“If …?” 

Too much remained unspoken in the silence that descended between them. Tony felt obliged to crack another sex joke, but for the life of him couldn’t think of any. 

Nearby, a group of Asgardians were engaged in a drinking contest. A chalice rolled across the floor and bumped into Tony’s shoe, leaking mead.

“They sure know how to hold their drink on Asgard, don’t they?” Steve took another swallow. 

“Yeah,” Tony said. 

His voice sounded odd to his own ears. His throat felt too dry. Oh, fuck. _No_. Not now. Not _here_. He swallowed, tried to clear his throat. That didn’t work. A sip of water, maybe. He peered into his chalice, but his hands were shaking. It might still be water. Maybe someone had refilled it when he hadn’t been paying attention, refilled it with mead, and then he couldn’t drink it, he knew he couldn’t have any alcohol, he _knew_ , he —

The chalice clattered to the floor.

“Tony? Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine.” He managed to hold up a hand to ward Steve off, but kept his gaze fixed on one of the golden statue-pillars in the hope that the craving would fade. It didn’t. “I just need …” _Loki_ , “to sit down for a bit.”

He looked around, spotted a bench and staggered off towards it. Someone had spilled mead there, or rather, chosen this spot to smash several chalices. Tony almost slipped. How much more pathetic could he get? He slumped down onto the bench. The cushions gave way so much he wavered. The drumming music hammered in his head. And why was it so damn _hot_ in here, anyway?

“Tony,” came a whisper, accompanied by a whiff of snow.

He exhaled. When he opened his eyes, Loki was on one knee in front of him, looking worried.

“I …” Trying to clear his throat ended up in a cough. He was so _thirsty_.

Loki raised his right hand and brushed some hair off Tony’s forehead. The cold touch felt like heaven on his overheated skin. Tony wanted … he wanted to _drink_. The intoxicating smell of mead filled his nose and burned in the back of his parched throat. His eyes fixed onto the mead splattered across the floor, like he could drop on his knees and —

A cold hand settled on his thigh, keeping him in place. 

“Hey. What’s going on here?”

Tony flinched. He’d forgotten all about Steve. His raw senses screamed at the mead Steve still held in his hands. _I can’t_ , he thought, with desperate clarity. _I can’t deal with this_.

“My apologies, Captain,” Loki said, his voice quiet, but smooth. “Interrealm travel can take a certain toll on the human body, especially if it is conducted by, ah … unconventional means. I seem to have miscalculated. But I can assure you Tony will be just fine. He merely requires some rest so that his body can catch up with reality, as it were. Allow me …”

Under different circumstances, Loki lying through his teeth to Captain America would have amused Tony. 

Now, he was just glad to feel Loki’s arm around his waist, being hauled upright and led away from the hall and all the fucking mead.

#

Tony didn’t take in any of his environment apart from _gold_ and _hot_ and _howmuchfurther_. When a door finally closed behind them, Tony didn’t feel relieved, he just collapsed onto the nearest surface, which happened to be soft cushions.

 _Make it stop_ , he thought. _Please, someone, make it stop._

“Shh …” Loki’s icy hand slipped into his hair. “Don’t fight it. It will pass.” 

He started whispering, in what Tony recognized as Jötun. It was a harsh language fitting for ice spikes and rock cliffs, but in Loki’s voice, it still sounded lilted, like a lullaby.

The room temperature dropped. Tony released a shuddering breath. His skin felt less feverish. 

“Here’s some water,” Loki said, in English. “Slowly.”

He helped Tony upright and instilled a little water. It tasted like fresh snow, like the most wonderful thing Tony had ever drunk. He could have cried with relief.

“I …” He faltered. What was he supposed to say? _I’m sorry? I’m pathetic? I can’t do this? Please don’t leave me, please never …_

“It will pass,” Loki repeated.

#

Tony woke in a soft bed. Drowsily, he blinked his surroundings into focus. The large room didn’t seem to contain much more than this elaborate four-poster bed, and heaps of ornamentation everywhere - wall, floor, ceiling. All in gold. Even with the shutters closed, the room’s splendor seemed excessive. Oppressive, even. The satin-like sheets he was tangled in were green. 

“Good morning,” Loki said. It sounded like a question.

“Yeah.” Tony turned around to Loki, who was sitting next to him on the bed. He cleared his throat. “Sorry about last night.”

“It was not your fault.”

“Damn right it was. I should have known there’d be alcohol everywhere, should have anticipated … Fuck.” He raked a hand through his hair. “I just … I don’t remember cravings that bad. I mean, it’s been three years and I haven’t even had any cravings whatsoever for, I don’t know, months …”

“My best guess is that the excess magic in the air may have aggravated your … condition. And if we must go down this path, I will confess that for a moment, last night, I felt relieved to have a viable excuse to leave the reception. Does that make us even?”

Loki had spoken without inflection, but Tony still flinched. Of course, Loki hadn’t even wanted to go to Asgard. Just being here had to be Hel for him, let alone making merry with the Asgardian court …

“I didn’t … Fuck, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think.” Wasn’t that a familiar short-coming.

Outside, Tony noticed, night was falling. Shit, how long had he been asleep? Or maybe the sky was just darkening with an impending thunderstorm. The wind had picked up speed, too. “Wait, it rains on Asgard? Can’t you guys just spell the weather nice all the time?”

Loki laughed, without any humor. “Someone could, yes. But then a certain God of Thunder would be deprived of his power displays, and that would be … quite tragic, would it not?”

Ouch. Of course. “This is all part of the ceremony?”

“A display of the future king’s power, for all his subjects to see. And we … we get the bad weather.”

As if on cue, the thunder rolled, followed by lightning across the entire sky.

“My apologies,” Loki said, his voice tense. “I should have asked whether you wished to attend the show fight.”

“Nah, I’m good right here.” 

Outside, the thunderstorm was hitting its first heights, lightning flashing across the sky, thunder roaring. Tony got off the bed and moved to the high arches of the window despite himself, mesmerized. There was no glass in it, yet no rain came into the room.

“It’s a decent party trick, I grant Thor that,” Loki observed from his left side. 

Slowly, Tony thought he understood where the problem lay. “It’s some kind of magic?”

“Yes,” Loki ground out.

“But it’s the _right_ kind of magic, eh? The Asgard-kind of magic, flashy magic on steroids. Not like sly magic tricks.”

“No.”

Another flash of lightning illuminated Loki’s pale features, the locked jaw, the defiant gaze. Tony was seized, then, by the wild wish to give Loki a break, from this millennium of bad history, to give him something fresh to think about when the thunder rolled.

So he asked, quiet but steady, “What do you want?”

“I did not think this was a game.” 

“It’s not.”

Loki flexed the fingers in his left hand, but that was all the warning Tony got before a gust of rain drenched him from head to toe. He only just managed to suppress a colorful curse.

“Well,” Loki said, from the side where the rain still couldn’t reach. “Are you _quite_ certain that you prefer sly magic tricks?”

“Quite. Yeah.” Game on?

“Like the one where I take over your mind and simply have my way with you?”

Tony managed a grin. “You know damn well you don’t need magic for that. You can bend me over this ledge right now and fuck me hard enough I’ll feel it for a week if that’s what it takes to—” 

“Don’t,” Loki interrupted, his voice low and dangerous.

Tony frowned. “Now what’s the problem? Care to enlighten me why our sex life is —”

A dagger to the throat was a pretty efficient way of shutting Tony up. That, and being bent backwards over a slippery window ledge. He couldn’t turn to double-check how far down it was, but probably “far enough.” Extremis would heal a broken bone or two or ten, but all of them? Besides …

“Wow, that sure brings back some memories,” Tony ventured. “And I don’t mean the good kind.”

By now, they were both soaked through by the rain. Thunder rolled, once more, as if to mock them. 

“Loki.” 

No reaction. The dagger didn’t budge, either. 

Okay. 

Tony prised his right hand off the ledge, somehow didn’t lose his balance, raised the hand to the icy blade and pressed it closer against his throat, until he could feel it scratch and burn his skin. “Alright, fine, if _that_ ’s how you want to play it. I will wait for you in Hel.” 

The cold steel vanished, leaving Tony with an inexplicable feeling of loss. Loki hauled him upright, away from the window, and spelled the rain-protection back in place, so that it was just the two of them, staring at each other at arm’s length. 

“By the Norns, Tony, why are you so … so …” 

The strangled noise in the back of Loki’s throat was drowned out by the next roll of thunder. He raised a hand, as if to reach out, wipe the blood away maybe, then let it fall. Extremis had already healed the cut, anyway. Tony wanted to touch Loki, kiss him, hold him, reassure him somehow, but he knew he shouldn’t. Couldn’t. For the first time in three years, they had hit some sort of boundary. 

“I …” Loki faltered. His hands clenched into fists. The haunted expression in his eyes made Tony’s heart shudder. “I need some air.” Loki turned on his heel and stalked out.

“Fuck,” Tony mumbled, to himself and the empty air and the universe at large. 

#

When Tony walked out of the bathroom into the living area of their quarters, the sky had cleared up outside. There was some food on the table, and … Steve was standing in the middle of the room, hands helplessly on his hips.

“Hey, Cap.”

“Tony.” Steve exhaled. “Listen, some more Avengers will arrive shortly. Care to join us for a drink?”

 _I’m a recovering alcoholic_ did probably not make for the best evasive answer. Tony settled on a careful, “I don’t drink anymore.”

“Fine.” Steve frowned. “Coffee, then. Orange juice. Whatever. Or are you avoiding us altogether now?”

Alright then. Fuck careful. “In case you forgot in your old age, I was _persona non grata_ on Earth after Ultron. Still am, I suppose, or would be, if I wasn’t officially _dead_. And remind me again who it was that told me to stay dead? Oh yeah, that’s right, that would have been _you_.”

“Look …” Steve raked a hand through his hair. “Back then, I wasn’t thinking clearly. I don’t think any of us were. Ultron was a mess and I know you blame yourself, but we’ve forgiven you, Tony. You can come home.”

His mind tried to process this, tried to imagine himself back on Earth, in New York, joking around with the Avengers, smiling at the press, dodging questions about all the terrible things he’d — “No.”

“Is that, no I can’t, or, no I won’t?” Steve gave him a resigned and sad look that hurt, deep down. 

Fuck that. Tony had done everything Steve had ever asked him to do, and still all he had caused was disappointment.

He settled on, “Just … no.” 

“So you’d rather skip around the galaxy with _Loki_ than come home to your team?”

“Yes,” Tony snapped, if only out of sheer spite. But also … yes, he would. He really would.

Steve was frowning. “You’re being rather monosyllabic.”

“Okay, fine. I’ll come play _Keeping up with the Avengers_ , but I’m not coming back down to Earth. Beyond that, what am I supposed to say? Sing Loki’s praises, swear to you that he’s a good and honorable man? Well, he’s not and I won’t.”

“For heaven’s sake, Tony.” Steve started pacing. “I’m only trying to understand! I’m worried about you, Tony, I really am. He treats you … very badly.”

In his mind, Tony could feel the cold dagger against his throat. He was rubbing that patch of skin before he realized it.

“He has his reasons.”

“ _What_?”

“I mean, this is Asgard, this is Loki’s turf. I’m only here for moral support.”

“It’s _abuse_! How can you not _see_ that? Take what happened yesterday. Loki is a possessive, obsessive bastard who will only touch or even acknowledge you when you’re visibly in pain about something he caused, like messing up his interrealm travel! You looked so _sick_ , and Loki, I don’t know, he probably gets off on the power he exercises over you — do you really think it’s so weird that I’m concerned when someone I know and respect lets himself be treated like that?”

“You think …” Tony blinked. Then, to Steve’s horror, he started to laugh. He didn’t want to, but he couldn’t help it. “I’m an alcoholic, alright? Not that it was hard to miss, before. Anyway. I’ve been sober for three years, but an addiction like that, it doesn’t just go away now, does it? So, what was I doing yesterday? I was fighting a relapse, and I was losing. And you know what? I would have licked spilled mead off the floor if Loki hadn’t been there to stop me. How’s that for knowledge? How’s that for _respect_?”

Steve was staring. “Jesus, Tony.” He recovered fast, though. “But then why did Loki lie and say he’d made some mistake? Oh, that’s right, it’s in his treacherous nature to sow discontent betw —”

“He did it for me,” Tony snapped. For once, it made Steve shut up. “He was improvising. Alright? Loki can handle my usual cravings, but that reception was something else. All that mead …” He could almost taste it on his tongue. He fought it down. “What Loki did was spot my symptoms from halfway across a crowded hall, calm me down enough to get up, and then find me an excuse that meant I wouldn’t have to confess to Captain Sunshine that I’m a pathetic drunk who can’t handle having to decline more than one drink per night. Fuck.” 

Steve was frowning again. “One good deed doesn’t cancel out all that bad.”

“Does it ever.” Tony sighed. “I know that, believe me. And yet here I was, thinking … Remind me, didn’t you say you had _forgiven_ me?”

Now Steve just looked hurt again. “Were you always this good at twisting words, or did you learn that from Loki, too?”

“He saved my life!” 

“From cancer, yes, I know.” Steve held up his hands. “Okay, so it’s two good deeds. That still doesn’t —”

“No,” Tony interrupted. “That’s not what I meant. Back then, I was …” He stopped, in search for an accurate word. “I was _drowning_. I kept thinking, about the Afghan desert and outer space and alien invasions and having my house collapse on top of me and then there were the flashlights, telling me that everything was my fault, that I should be doing better, all this _noise_! The alcohol, too, I needed it back then, because my hands wouldn’t stop shaking, I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t do better because I didn’t know _how_. You know how I felt when I got my diagnosis, terminal liver cancer?”

Steve shook his head, his eyes wide open.

“I felt _relieved_. I thought it would finally _end_. Then Loki turned up and he … He told me that he could make me not die, but that only I could make myself live. So I did. Live. The Avengers, I’m done with that. The show goes on without me now, much like it would have if I _had_ died, and it seems to go on just fine. This, here, now, with Loki, this is who I _am_. This is who I’ve always been. If that’s not someone you recognize, you didn’t look hard enough, before.”

Steve was staring at him. “Oh my God, Tony, oh my God.”

A wave of tiredness and exasperation swept over Tony. He had half a mind to throw Steve out to chew on that, but in the end, had it not always been easier to just … play along? So instead, he said, “How about we start this over? Hi Steve. What brings you here?”

There was a trace of a smile on Steve’s lips. “I’m here to talk to you about the Avengers Initiative.”

For no reason at all, Tony felt tears welling up in his eyes. He blinked, furious with himself. “I … I would like that.”

#

Tony followed Steve with a sense of trepidation. He didn’t even know who the Avengers were these days. 

“Did, uh … did Bruce turn up?”

“No,” Steve said, slowly. “We still have no idea where Bruce went.”

Damn. “Rhodey is coming, though?” That would be nice. And Pepper, hells, poor Pepper who hadn’t heard from him since …

“Actually, no. Rhodey’s too busy on Earth, and all that. He might have come if you had given us a heads-up.”

Right.

“Natasha is coming,” Steve continued. “The Vision, too.”

The Vision. Tony had forgotten all about that AI. One of his better ideas, to keep up the work when Bruce and Steve had wanted him to destroy it, but … Steve had attacked him, he remembered. Physically attacked him. Yes, the cracks had been there. He had just refused to see them. 

He should have listened to Fury. He hadn’t been _recommended_ for the Avengers, and they had only called on him as a last-ditch measure because they’d needed the firepower. And the technological expertise. And it had paid off, back then. He had saved the world, or at least Manhattan, carrying that missile into the wormhole. Tony could feel it still, the darkness of another dimension closing in around him and … he shook his head at the memories. 

“Okay,” he said. “And I suppose there are people I don’t know?” Another terrible idea crept up on him. “You didn’t by any chance recruit a certain Dr Strange?”

“You know Stephen?” 

Tony flinched. “We had a bit of an … unfortunate encounter in Stockholm.” To say the least.

“I see.” Steve was disappointed again, Tony could tell. Probably because he’d been on Earth and hadn’t called. “Stephen is not with the Avengers. He’s a …”

“Consultant?” Tony didn’t even bother to hide the bitterness in his voice. 

“More or less, yeah. Apart from the old roster, we have a new guy called who can shrink down to ant size. He’s called Ant-Man.”

“Wait, you signed up Hank Pym? Isn’t he a bit old?”

“What? No, it’s not Hank Pym, his name is Scott Lang. How do you know Pym?”

Tony shrugged. “Pym Technologies was a competitor, I kept track. Met Pym at a conference once. Unpleasant guy. Told me he might be wanting to look into AI some day. Good thing he never got there, eh?”

“Yeah.” Steve cleared his throat. “There’s also a kid that can crawl up walls and do all sorts of weird things. Peter Parker aka Spider-Man. He’s not here, said he’s got school, but you would like him. He’s very bright, and into science and all that kind of thing.”

Yes, a bright kid sounded like someone Tony would like to know. Who, in another dimension, he might have liked to mentor.

Maybe, in another dimension, he would have been part of the consultant superheroes together with Dr Stephen Strange. He might have ended up Director of SHIELD, or actually Secretary of Defense. Who knew what would have happened, if he hadn’t invented Ultron. 

“So. That’s the team. Come along!” Steve opened a door and called out. “Avengers? I’ve come across an old friend here.”

#

Whenever Freyja needed a break from Asgardian magic without leaving this realm, she found herself drawn to the Queen’s old library. Frigga’s library. Her magic lingered there, even now, years after her death.

Only this time, she wasn’t the only one who’d had that idea.

Loki was sitting on a window ledge, one knee drawn up, staring at the sky. Stark was nowhere in sight.

“Leave me alone,” Loki said, without turning around.

“I’m not Stark.”

“I know.”

“Should I go find him?”

“Tony is …” Loki’s voice softened. “No. I would be loath to bother him with my … reminiscing.”

Stark would probably not have minded, but Freyja chose to keep that opinion to herself. Instead, she approached the window. “I miss her, too. I can’t fathom what it must be like for you.”

Loki leaned his head back against the window frame and closed his eyes. The vulnerability of his appearance made Freyja ache for him. After a short deliberation, she touched his shoulder. She might not be Stark, but she could do … something.

It took a moment or two, but in the end, Loki did put his hand across hers. As ever since that day he’d found out about his true parentage, his hand was cold. She hadn’t known, the first time she’d seen him, after, and she still remembered the look on his face when she’d flinched away from him. Now, she knew better, and she didn’t let go. 

The door flew open without warning, banging against the wall. Freyja flinched away from Loki after all and turned towards the door, where Eirik stood with a grin on his face that could not bode well. 

“Ah, there’s the traitor Jötun,” Eirik said. “I have some news for you. The Avengers have arrived. They are currently enjoying their meal, joined by Captain Rogers, of course … and Mr Stark.”

Ouch. Low hit. But it worked. Loki actually winced. Stark catching up with his old team, the closest thing he had left to family, and who, by all accounts, hated Loki, that had to sting a little. Or a lot.

“Perhaps you had better go and see what your wayward mortal gets up to behind your back?” Eirik asked. “I hear he’s not exactly popular on Midgard these days. Nor on Asgard. If he is not careful … some harm might come to a _mortal_ like him, I fear. And then what would you do?”

Loki had already dissolved into thin air by the time Freyja realized that Eirik had just implied that someone might … _kill Stark_.

She ran. 

#

“Oh come on, Stark, you’re making this up,” Natasha said, with a smile. 

“Lies!” Tony said. “And I’m telling you, once that didn’t work out, it became clear that —”

He stopped dead in his tracks when the door swung open. 

“Isn’t this lovely.” 

Despite the venom in that voice, the first thing Tony felt was relief. He exhaled. He hadn’t even noticed how tense he was. On edge. Talking to … his friends. The Avengers show really had moved on, Tony realized. And it hadn’t just moved on _fine_ , it had moved on to _better_ things, without him.

“Is that —” Scott started, in shock.

“Loki Laufeyson. Absolutely not at your service.” He remained standing in the door, surveying the scene with disdain. 

“Uh …” Tony got to his feet, unsure of what to do. He could feel the Avengers’ eyes on him. They hadn’t really discussed Loki. For all he’d said, Tony could have been on his interrealm trip alone. 

Loki was still smiling that very unpleasant smile. “Well. Far be it from me to disrupt your family reunion.”

“That’s …” Tony faltered. It wasn’t as if the Avengers would want to associate with Loki. Or vice versa. But then … Loki didn’t say anything else, he just kept Tony’s gaze. 

_It’s abuse_ echoed in his mind. Was he doing a great deal to disprove that, right now?

“Tony,” Steve said, carefully. “I would like to hear the end of the story.”

“I don’t understand.” Bless Vision’s naivety. Even if he did say it in Jarvis’ voice. Oh Jarvis. “What is Loki Laufeyson to you?”

Without thinking, Tony said, “Well, Junior, I’m fucking him, for starters.”

Scott choked on his mead. Served him right.

“Tony, please,” Steve intervened. “Can you please finish your story?”

Before he could say anything, the door swung open again.

#

When Freyja came down the corridor towards the banquet hall, Heimdall had beat her there, leading a a group of Einherjer through the door, followed by Thor. She hurried into the room, where the Einherjer had already surrounded Loki.

“What is the meaning of this?” Thor asked.

“The traitor Jötun, he’s trying to sow distrust among the Avengers,” Heimdall reported. “With petty tricks, as usual. You never were much of a fighter, were you, Loki? Is this not what you have always done, to compensate for your … weakness?”

This was going to end in bloodshed.

“How amusing this is. You see,” Loki said, conversationally, smiling, “for the longest time, I have believed this myself. And so any time my magic tried to come pouring out of me, I held it _back_. But now, good Heimdall …” He laughed. Several Einherjer winced. “Now I am done trying to hold back. I will not weaken myself any more. Not for your sake, not for Asgard, not for anyone. Never again.”

He raised his hands. His … blue hands. A black dagger appeared in a swirl of icy magic. The temperature plummeted. The light, the sunlight itself, was dimming. This was Jötun magic, this was _ancient_. Done weakening himself, was he?

Freyja realized she had no idea how powerful Loki really was. She doubted he himself knew. 

“Loki, what are you doing!” Thor shouted. All Einherjer had trained their weapons on Loki.

“Spreading chaos,” Heimdall said, pleased at being proven right. “That is all he knows to do.”

Loki was laughing again. “I was, if I may remind you, invited.”

“It was my mistake,” Thor acknowledged. “It shall not happen again.”

“Oh, of that I have no doubt.” 

Freyja swallowed. What in all the realms could be done to stop the force of Loki’s vengeance? His gazed turned to Heimdall first, and —

“Now hold on just one minute!” Stark. He’d woven his way through all the weapons somehow and inserted himself between Loki and Heimdall. “I would say, don’t let me interrupt, but actually, I am interrupting, so there goes my dramatic entrance, oops.”

Loki stared at him in disbelief, before his gaze turned hostile once more. “Out of my way. I have to —”

“Yeah, uhm, no.” Stark laughed. If he was scared, he was hiding it well. “We kind of have this deal going on about not starting any wars, remember? I mean, that _is_ still going on, right?”

Loki’s grip on the dagger tightened, and he raised it up. Stark didn’t move. Loki flipped the dagger, placed the hilt in Stark’s right hand and folded his fingers over it.

“Thank you.” Stark sounded as if Loki had asked his hand in marriage. The entire room watched in stunned silence. 

“Come with me?” Loki asked.

“Always,” Stark replied.

Sunlight flashed back into the room. When Freyja could see clearly again, Loki and Stark were gone. 

#

“Alright.” Tony slumped against the closed door of … where was he? Asgard, still. Their quarters. Which meant Loki was too wound up to teleport further than a few floors up. So Tony returned the dagger and asked, “What the fuck is going on?”

“How do you mean?” Loki vanished the dagger, unconcerned. 

“How do I _mean_?” Tony gestured vaguely at the door, and at Asgard in general. “What just happened down there? What did Heimdall do that for? And did you _have_ to almost freeze the entire realm?”

“Oh, that …” Loki’s lips twitched. “Do you prefer to disregard my capabilities in that department, too? My true nature, that is?” He came closer and pushed a leg across Tony’s, trapping him against the door. “The nature that lies hidden beneath this form you are so fond of, the illusion I create for all of your sakes, and you, too, prefer to forget about that, do you not? Prefer to ignore the monster I am under—”

“Stop! For fuck’s sake!” Tony shouted. Loki glared, but subsided, so there was that. Was this about being Jötun? “I mean …” Yes, what did he mean? “I just want _you_. In whatever shape you prefer at any given time. I’d fuck that Jötun form of you in a heartbeat.”

The place where their legs touched went so cold it burned. The temperature plummeted. Loki’s eyes bled from green to red. “Would you, now?” 

Extremis flared up in Tony’s leg to counteract the freezing. Loki hissed, as if in pain. Black ridges appeared on blue skin. With conscious effort, Tony made Extremis retreat into the depth of his body. His leg protested, but so be it. He put a hand on Loki’s cheek, almost didn’t flinch, and trailed down the neck, across all those familiar black markings. Then he leaned forward and kissed that place where neck joined shoulder. Fuck, that hurt. But it didn’t deter him.

“Ah …” Loki moaned. “What are you … doing?”

 _Proving a point, you stubborn idiot._ He trailed further kisses down the neck.

“Stop, you’re hurting yourself. Tony. Stop!”

When he didn’t, Loki tore away and took a couple of steps backwards. Tony just looked at Loki. His mouth was screaming in pain, and his leg had gone so numb he had to use the door for support.

With a strangled noise of exasperation, Loki shifted back into his usual shape. A golden rush descended on Tony and chased all the cold and pain away.

“Hey,” Tony protested. “No random magic. Rules, remember?”

Loki grabbed his shoulders and actually shook him. “Without Extremis, touching me in my Jötun form would _kill_ you! What is the _matter_ with you?”

“I thought we’d established long ago that I’m insane. Isn’t that why you want me? At least that’s what you used to say, but these last couple of days, you haven’t really acted like it, have you?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking —”

“Shut up!”

Loki flinched. Shit. Something was badly wrong.

Tony took a deep breath. “Look. I know you have the patience of a sinner, but I don’t, alright? I’m not putting up with this anymore. You are going to explain to me what the problem is. The Jötun thing and whatever else I’ve been missing here. I want to know. Right now.”

“I …” Loki shuddered. “When I found out about my Jötun blood, I was furious, with Odin for keeping this from me, and with myself, for … yes, for being weak, I suppose. But in the back of my mind, a lot of things suddenly made a lot of sense, and that part of me, the part that never fit … it felt relieved. Because it finally had something else to blame other than my … proclivities. I … I went through my fair share of people when I was younger, you see, always searching … In the end …” He looked away. “You will not like the rest.”

Tony had no idea where this was going, but he knew what to say, “I haven’t liked much of anything that has come out of your mouth since we arrived on Asgard. Doesn’t mean I don’t want to know. Remember how you once told me you’ll listen to everything that makes me afraid of my own mind, that you won’t run? Well guess what, that goes both ways. Tell me.”

“Freyr,” Loki said, still not looking up. Tony winced. “I felt more … secure to, ah, experiment, when I was on Vanaheim. In the end, it was Freyr who took me to bed and showed me how good it can feel. All of it. It was glorious, but it was also frowned upon, for a male, no less a prince. And of course people found out. Odin was, oh … he was furious. My … Frigga, she stood up for me. No one else. In the end, Odin let it slide to avoid a larger scandal. After that, I took more precautions. Learned my lesson, I suppose.”

Icy jealousy surged through Tony, about everything those two had got to discover together, but … He forced himself to exhale. This was completely beside the point. Loki hadn’t meant to make him jealous. Loki had been trying to tell him something important, something …

“So … alright, no bending over for the Vanir princling, got it. But how does that relate to … anything?”

“The feminine role does not befit a warrior.”

Tony frowned. “What?”

“Did I ever tell you that on that ill-fated first trip to Jötunheim, I had Thor convinced to return to Asgard and _not_ start a war, until Laufey called him _little princess_?” Loki shrugged. “That’s it, you see. One of the worst insults imaginable, for an Asgardian warrior. An inexcusable weakness, for a member of the royal family. Let alone someone who is already under suspicion because he prefers … sly magic tricks. Which is also … weak.”

“That’s …” The words and reactions from the past days finally started to assemble in Tony’s mind. So Asgard thought Loki was weak, because he was a Jötun, a sorcerer, and because he enjoyed getting fucked? Right. That was … a lot. But a _weakness_? And more importantly, what was Tony supposed to say now to make this better? “That’s really fucked up. And it’s wrong, so damn wrong I don’t even know where to _start_! There’s _nothing_ weak about you. Nothing at all.”

“According to Asgard, _everything_ about me is weak.”

“But you just told Heimdall you’re done believing that shit.” 

Loki shrugged, but didn’t reply. Ah. So that had been for show. They were talking one thousand years of conditioning here, Tony realised. And he knew a thing or two about being stuck in old patterns himself. “Okay, let’s talk about weakness, then. How many safehouses do we have scattered across the realms?”

Loki frowned. “Nineteen.”

“And how much alcohol can be found in all of those combined?”

The frown deepened. “Not a single drop, Tony, what does that have to do with—”

“I’m asking the questions here. Why? Why is there no alcohol?”

“Because … we decided that would be best.”

“And why did we decide that?”

Loki swallowed, but didn’t reply.

“Say it,” Tony hissed.

“Because …” Loki closed his eyes. Opened them again. “Because you are an alcoholic.”

“Yes. Exactly. I am an alcoholic. There you go. And you know what that is, for me, to me? _That’s_ a weakness. A real weakness. Extremis can heal any wound and makes sure my cancer never returns, which is pretty great, but as we found out, it can’t make the cravings stop, and it won’t stop me from relapsing, either, because that shit is in my mind, and my mind is pretty much unfixable at this point. So really, an enemy doesn’t have to hit me or shoot me, they just have to slip me something with high percentages. Wine would do it too, by now. So, yeah. Weakness. I know all about that. Because I have lots of them. Alcohol is just the obvious one.”

Tony knelt down in front of Loki and edged close, but didn’t touch him. Loki stared. “Do you really believe that of all the things I do, _this_ makes me weak?”

“No,” Loki said, his voice strained.

“See, the way people here on Asgard have been treating you, the amount of shit I’ve heard from a supposedly advanced civilization is enough to put me off this entire civilization thing for a decade or so. I’d really much rather spend that time with you, and fuck in any variety we damn well please. Owning up to what I want does not make me weak. It makes me _stronger_. And you know who taught me that? _You_ did.”

Loki didn’t reply. Tony waited, on his knees, his heart hammering, for some of the longest seconds of his life. Eventually, Loki said, “You’re right.”

Tony exhaled. “And you’re a fucking idiot. Sometimes, anyway. Now, what do _you_ want?”

“What I want …” Loki sighed. “I want to find a spell that will undo all my memories of the past, but then I realize that my past has led me to you … so, actually, I rather think it was worth it.” He offered Tony a hand up. “Come with me.”

Tony took the hand and staggered to his feet. “Where are we going?”

“Wait and see.”

#

Thor had managed to calm down the Einherjer and Heimdall. Somewhat. Freyja stood by the door, arms folded, and listened to Heimdall’s attempts to coordinate a search party. Not that anyone would find Loki Laufeyson, if he did not wish to be found.

She surveyed the room. The Avengers were standing together on the far side, huddled around their apparent leader (judging by Stark’s stories, that was Captain Steve Rogers), who … met her gaze head-on. She nodded, and started out across the room. The Captain met her halfway.

“Ma’am,” he acknowledged, then frowned. “Your Highness?”

She laughed. “Just Freyja will do.”

He rewarded her with a rather bright smile. “Steve.” He offered his hand. “I’m not exactly used to this whole monarchy business.”

“I gathered.” Firm handshake, though. Good. “Stark has told me all about your … America, was it?”

Steve blinked, in surprise. “You know Tony well, then?”

“Well enough, I suppose. They stop by Vanaheim every once in a while.”

“They.” Steve huffed. “I assume Tony’s told you how they met?”

Freyja smiled. “Have you never loved someone so much it hurt?”

Caught, he looked away. She wondered what the story was there. From what Stark had told her … 

“Alright.” Steve sighed. “I’ll be the first to admit that things run more smoothly in the Avengers without him. We could’ve used his expertise a couple of things, but in terms of team dynamics and everything, yes … we work better without him. He knows it, too, and that just makes it worse. And despite that, despite everything … I still miss him.”

“Have you tried telling him that?”

Another sigh. “He wouldn’t believe me. He’d just make some stupid joke.”

“There is that risk, yes.” 

“Just tell me one thing …” Steve looked up again. “Because I could never say, with him … Is he happy?”

Freyja thought it over. “Yes,” she concluded. “I believe that considering his … baggage, he is happy.”

Steve didn’t look convinced. “But …” He shifted on his feet. “Why? Please tell me that you explain what he sees in Loki, because if no one can, and I see him smiling at this lunatic again, so help me God, I …”

“Don’t,” Freyja said. “If you ever want to see him again, at all, don’t. There is only one thing that Stark would never forgive - if you hurt someone he loves. Don’t you see? Stark’s capacity for love is _infinite_. It’s just that barely anyone has ever tapped into it.”

Steve flinched. That had hit home. “ _Will_ I ever see him again?”

Freyja didn’t want to guess, or lie, so she didn’t answer.

#

The throne hall lay deserted when they walked in. Tony craned his neck, but the ceiling was too far up for him to make out properly. A set of guards marched past, but paid them no heed. Shielding spell.

Sometimes, Tony forgot that magic was hard. Loki made it look so easy. But then, he remembered the first time they’d gone to Jötunheim together, where raw magic rode on the wings of snow storms, how Loki had closed his eyes, relaxed his stance and taken a deep breath. The one that said, _easy_ , the one that said, _finally_ , the one that said, _home_. 

That the very first time Loki had returned to Jötunheim, with Thor, the first time he’d felt that, before he had _known_ , it must have scared the living daylights out of him.

Together, they progressed through the man-shaped colonnades. Loki whispered in Tony’s ear, random facts about this warrior and that, background noise to the magnificence of Asgard’s history rising around them. A history of death and destruction. And at the center of the hall, at the far wall, atop a considerable number of steps - the throne. Woah. They didn’t do things by halves on Asgard, did they.

“Quite the sight, isn’t it?” Loki huffed. “Come along.”

They ascended the stairs and stood in front of the empty throne. The gold was so intense it hurt Tony’s eyes.

Loki cleared his throat. “Would you like to sit down?”

Right. “Wouldn’t you?”

“All my life,” Loki said, “for as long as I can remember, all I wanted was to be Thor’s equal. An endeavor doomed to failure from the start, of course. I could never be Thor. I am not worthy. I have always known this, deep down. But now, I … I know. And … I’m starting to think there are certain advantages to being unworthy.” 

That was … that had definitely been important. That … Tony exhaled. Now it was his job to lighten the mood again somehow. “Isn’t sitting on this thing some sort of treason, anyway?” 

“Naturally.”

Alright then, why the fuck not commit treason while he was at it. 

So Tony sat down. On the throne of Asgard. That … yeah. Powerful magic inhabited this gold. He could feel it. The gold vibrated beneath his hands and legs. The hall stretched out ahead of him, between his feet, in all its golden, empty glory. It wasn’t difficult to imagine it full of cheering subjects, or kneeling —

Tony shook his head at the vision. He would never be revered, not as a leader. Because he wasn’t a leader, was he? He’d never been the leader of anyone. Certainly not of the Avengers. He hadn’t been capable of leading his own company, either. There had been Steve, for the Avengers, or Pepper, for Stark Industries, but Tony, he’d hidden in his workshop, and only got out when there was need of him. He’d hogged the spotlight for a while then, entertained everyone, solved every problem in or out of sight, and then he’d returned to his workshop. Until they’d had need of him again. Of his resources and his wits and his gadgets. Of his sly magic tricks. 

“Damn,” Tony whispered.

“Oh, but it suits you.” Loki stepped into his line of vision. “Do you want it?”

Tony must have managed to lose the plot again, so he asked, “Want what, exactly?”

“The throne.” Loki made a sweeping gesture around the hall. “Asgard. All the Realms. Say yes and I will give it to you. All of it.”

Tony’s mind scrambled. “Wait, what? No! Absolutely not! I don’t give a damn about thrones, or realms, or leaders. I just want you.”

“As you wish.” Loki folded himself down on his knees. Tony’s breath caught. This was the throne of Asgard, and Loki was kneeling in front of it, in front of Tony, that just … Loki smiled. “I used to dream about this, did you know? I am not worthy of this throne, but perhaps I can prove worthy of you.” 

Before Tony could reply, Loki leaned in and put his lips against the half-hard outline of Tony’s cock. Fuck. Tony’s fingers clawed into the smooth gold of the throne’s armrest as he desperately tried to keep from crying out, because no shielding spell was going to hide _that_ , and he couldn’t be to blame for guards finding their wayward prince on his knees, or the mortal sitting on the throne …

Oh, but Loki was too damn good at this. Tony didn’t want to think about where exactly he’d learned those tricks, especially considering what he’d heard just now, he just … he didn’t want to think at all.

But then, he didn’t have to, not with a hot mouth around his cock and that tongue and —

Tony slumped back against the throne. Damn that thing was uncomfortable. He drew a shuddering breath, trying to keep as quiet as possible. “Bastard.” 

“That I am.” Loki’s voice had a nice hoarse sound to it. He was resting his arms on Tony’s thighs. “I don’t know what I would do if … I can’t lose you.”

“Till death do us part?” Tony asked, only half joking. “You’re not seriously asking me to mar—”

“Even death cannot have you. I am not going to let that happen.”

Okay. That … “Okay,” Tony mumbled. “Extremis will keep me alive and in relatively good shape for a few more decades anyway. That’s a lot, for, you know. A mortal. And one who hasn’t stopped wondering why he isn’t dead for the past ten years. Maybe twenty.”

Loki looked surprised, but then, he didn’t. Instead, he moved his hand along Tony’s thigh until he found the femoral artery. If those fingers were to be replaced by a Jötun dagger and _held down_ , Extremis would not be able to heal him, Tony would bleed out, red blood gushing all over the golden throne, and wouldn’t that be appropriate. Loki whispered, “So you still ask yourself that question?”

Tony pressed his own hand down on Loki’s fingers, until he could feel his pulse race in his leg. If he hadn’t had an orgasm moments ago, he’d be hard now. That was probably, no, that was _really_ concerning, sane people like Steve would find it concerning, and they’d be _right_ , but … 

“Don’t you?” he whispered back. 

Loki had once plunged himself into interrealm oblivion, after all. Despite his contingencies and claims that all he wanted was to live. But then, as Tony knew all too well, _I want to live_ did not necessarily equal _I don’t want to die_ …

“Sometimes,” Loki said.

The admission took Tony aback. He’d always been fairly sure Loki didn’t lie to him outright, outside of their games anyway, but that … “Oh,” he said. “Uh. Well. For what it’s worth, you … you make me feel alive. But being with you is also a little bit like dying.” Ouch. Not exactly a compliment, was it? “I mean … You know what I mean, right?”

“Yes.” Loki smiled. “I know _exactly_ what you mean.”

He did, didn’t he? In the end, wasn’t that what had drawn and kept them together? 

In the distance, at the far end of the hall, a heavy door swung open. Palace guard, probably.

“Time to get out of here,” Tony said.

“I could not agree more.” Loki got to his feet, and offered Tony a hand up from the throne. The air crackled with imminent teleportation.

One day, Tony thought, as the Realm Eternal dissolved around them, they’d probably wind up destroying each other. But that was alright. That would answer the question, at least.

###


End file.
